35. Piano Man

Chapter 35

Piano Man

ELIO

T he familiar glide of the piano notes under my fingertips leaves me hollow, and the flawless melody only exacerbates the dissonant agony at the pit of my stomach. After the announcement, Lori ran out of the ballroom cloaked in shadows so thick, I couldn't track her.

She left without saying goodbye.

My lovely spider. My pyre of hopes.

Given the circumstances, I thought she'd be relieved not to have to go through with a sham wedding.

The discreet creak of the hinges grates my raw nerves, but I let out a sigh of relief as I stop playing. The sensual bite of Lori's shadow magic sweeps across the secluded tower. She couldn't leave without seeing me after all. Judging by her expression back on that stage, she probably came to curse me to the seven hells, but it's better than nothing.

"I can hear you, little spider," I croak. Shame and guilt are like ashes in my mouth, breaking down the words.

Before I can move, the sharp tip of a dark, murky dagger presses into my neck. Dark tendrils slither within the confines of the blade, and I hold up both hands in surrender. Lori grips the hilt of her weapon, poised to sever my carotid if I dare to move.

I lick my lips and choose my next words carefully. "I thought you didn't want to kill me."

A snarl rushes down the slope of my neck. "I changed my mind."

My lids flutter shut, the heat of her body pressed against my bare back draining the fight right out of me. The scent of fresh rain and burnt embers wraps me up in a cocoon of regrets, and I angle my neck to the side to give her better access. "Do it. Take your best shot."

Her blade draws back an inch. I seize the opportunity, gripping her wrist and twisting around to face her as I stand. She's absolutely stunning in her black and white dress. The front of her corset reveals the shape of her breasts, and the tulle skirt is torn off at the hem, the fabric barely licking the ground.

The piano bench creates an awkward barrier between us as I press the tip of her dagger right over my heart. "I'd love nothing more than to perish in your arms."

She chokes on a quiet, heart-wrenching sob. "Did you know? Did you know Paul was going to disqualify me like that, in front of everyone?"

"Yes. It was my idea," I admit with a defeated tilt of the head. "I have to marry Daisy tonight, or the whole realm will fall apart."

Tears fill the cracks of anger in her voice. "Why? Why is getting married so damn important in this wretched kingdom, when every other Fae royal is free to remain single?"

"The gods gave Winter more power than the other kingdoms. It was needed to preserve the safety of the souls we collect, but it came at a price. So much magic, yielded by only one person, threatened the balance. Thanatos made it so the burden of replenishing the glacier's magic on the solstice always had to be shared. Both king and queen must allow passage to the souls that were collected during the year to the afterlife, or all of Faerie's magic might wither. Winter destroys one, but spares two."

She lowers her weapon, the blade flaking off into the ether. "Why not marry me, then?"

By the spindle…

My breath hitches, my jaw slightly open, but the fleeting spark blazing through my chest is quickly snuffed out by a cold, endless void. "I could never marry you. If I marry you, you'll die." I wrap a hand around her neck and bend down to kiss her, ravenous for one last chance to hold her.

One last taste of life.

She flattens her palms to my chest to stop me. "Every curse has a loophole. We could figure it out together."

"I couldn't take that chance with you."

The fire in her eyes returns full-force. "So you'll marry and kill Daisy instead? How is that fair?"

I caress the back of her ear with my thumb. "I want you to live , Lori. To be happy."

"Without you, you mean."

I hold her burning gaze, desperate for her to understand. "That's the only option. The Gray Man might have retreated the other day, but the Tidecallers aren't finished with me. If rebels and thieves were able to hide their presence in Wintermere for so long, they must have found a way to replicate outlawed Mist Fae technology and used it to steal an immense amount of magic. War is coming. Every Fae—royal or not—is in danger now."

"Is that why you think they tried to kill you? To suck out your magic?" she asks, tracing my features like she wants to draw them from memory later on.

I link our fingers and kiss her knuckles, walking around the piano bench to snake my other hand around her waist and hold her close. "I suspect that, if the Gray Man had succeeded in striking me down, he would have used my powers to take my place. Wendy already admitted that she was meant to win the Yule pageant so she could help him steal the souls."

"What do you mean by taken your place ?"

"Controlling the light doesn't just allow me to become invisible." A stone sinks in my stomach as I adjust the million tiny scales of light magic covering my skin, tweaking them until the illusion I want to project is damn-near perfect.

I haven't used this particular power in fifty years, the repulsive subterfuge bringing bile to my mouth.

Lori gapes, her jaw slack as she tenses in my arms. The woman I'm projecting back to her is an almost perfect copy of herself but for the cold glint in her gaze.

"You can imitate anyone?"

"For it to look convincing, I have to know the person very well and move like they would, but yes. The voice is a different story, but a simple spell could bridge the gap," I explain before the illusion falters.

She molds her body to mine. "But the Gray Man doesn't know you."

"He must have watched the pageant to learn my mannerism, and while that might not be enough to fool the gods, it'd be enough to seize control of the realm for a few days. The souls are only accessible for one night a year, during the solstice ritual. It's the most potent well of magic in all the worlds. A jewel forged out of a hundred million souls would allow its wearer to obliterate all the Fae kingdoms' armies combined."

"Whether you marry me or not, I'm a Shadow huntress. I won't cower and hide in the new world. If a war is coming, I'll be ready." She stands on her tiptoes to kiss me, the invisible threads tying us together stronger than ever.

I shiver all over, addicted to the rush, and graze the length of her spine before slipping my fingers below the boning of her corset.

"Wait." She tears herself away, panting hard.

A heavy lump pulses in my throat as she flees from my grasp, and the sight of her standing by the window makes me quake with fear.

"How long were you and Iris married?" she asks.

"A little more than a year."

Her clear gray eyes widen, and I can tell it's not the figure she expected.

"Believe me, it felt a lot longer. My longest marriage to date," I chuckle darkly. "The poems I wrote after her death—those that Paul cherry-picked and published without my consent in a concerted effort to rehabilitate my reputation—sparked countless tales of sorrow and undying love. His efforts portrayed our marriage as tragic and romantic, ignoring how short and wretched it truly was." I tuck my hands in my pockets and look around the room. "No one but me has stepped foot in this room in fifty years…"

Has it always been this small?

Lori glances at the bed with her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. "I shouldn't be in here." She moves to leave, but I sweep her up in my arms.

"No, I hate this…shrine. I hate this bed. And those candles. I hate that it's all still here, untouched. Let's desecrate it together." I set her down on the piano.

The keys sink under her weight in a jarring cacophony as she spreads her legs and grabs a fist of my shirt, tugging me closer. "You only want me because I look like your dead wife. That's fucked up."

I bury my smile in her wavy hair. "If I'm so bad, why do you keep coming back?"

Every time we do this, she takes more and more of me. She thinks I only like her because of her resemblance to Iris, but that's actually what I hate most about her.

She fiddles with her fingers, suddenly absorbed by the shape of her thumb. "I thought—I figured that maybe , I could be Iris's lost soul."

"You're nothing like her."

She clicks her tongue in a chiding fashion. "Come on. I'm exactly like her."

I press my hand to her heart. "Not in here."

She doesn't meet my gaze, her eyes unfocused as though she's lost within herself, and the corners of her mouth curl up in a sad smile. "So it's only my body that's appealing to you. I get it."

"That's the opposite of what I said. Iris never cared about anything as fiercely as you do. She certainly never cared about me…" I cup her face and force her to look at me. "How do you feel when you're with me, Lori?"

Tears roll down her cheeks. "When I'm with you, I feel more alive than I ever did."

"I feel the same way." I kiss the salty tears off her smooth brown skin.

My heart feels like it's about to burst as I slide a hand down to the hollow of her neck. Her breasts strain against her studded corset with each labored breath, and I pinch the black bow holding it in place between my index finger and thumb.

A hiccup quakes her throat—almost a sob. "Please, I can't do this again."

"Do what? Endure all this pleasure I'm giving you?"

"Suffer the cold, empty loneliness that follows," she says, her voice more brittle and vulnerable than I've ever heard it.

"Spend the day with me. Please, " I beg, the selfish impulse to keep her by my side eroding my resolve.

She plays with the lapels of my jacket, shaking her head. "One day…is not enough."

Despite her answer, she buries her hands in my hair and kisses me as though I'm the only oxygen in the room.

There's no hope for us, but she fits so perfectly in my arms, I could almost be convinced otherwise. I unfasten the knot holding the black ribbon in place and carefully unlace her corset, one crisscross at a time.

She explores the lines of my shoulders with her hands, stroking the skin back and forth. "No more ice freckles?"

"You licked them all off."

"Well…yeah."

A full-bodied shiver rocks her from head to toe as I peel the corset from her frame and discard it to the side. I capture her breasts in my palms, testing their shape and weight until she writhes against me, her head falling back on a soft moan.

I move to kneel down, kissing my way down the valley between her breasts to her stomach, ready to tear what's left of her skirt off and make her come with my mouth again.

The sight of her blackened scab stops me cold, and I stand back up again. My heart gives a violent squeeze as I grip her waist, suddenly way more preoccupied by her health than her body. "Lori… I've got to get you that frost apple."

Her brows pull together in a frown, and she traces the shape of the inflamed scar with trembling fingers. "Weird. It was fine before."

Serpentine lines have spread from the M-shaped scar, the venom slowly spreading to the adjacent tissue

"Elio! Elio, are you up there?" Sara shouts. Her voice grows louder and louder as two sets of steps echo up the stairwell. She reaches the top of the stairs and stops herself short of entering the room, her arms braced on each side of the doorway. "Elio, we have to find Lori?—"

I cover Lori with my body to shield her from Beth and Sara's noisy interruption, and glare at the last two friends I have in the world, ready to curse them to the seven hells for their constant meddling.

I bite back a scalding "fuck off" and settle for a grumpy eye roll instead.

Beth serves me a wry, knowing smile as she slips under Sara's outstretched arm. "Never mind. I found her."